Death Cab, You Get It Now

Veronica takes over my hotel room better than other girls do

Everybody’s standing up or dancing at your table. You’re the only one slouching in the leather seat, holding a vodka tonic that you’ve topped off with alcohol three times already. If mother could see you now she would chastise you for “bad posture”. You’ve been poisoned. Where is the excitement you used to manufacture, no matter what the circumstances? You are in undeniable pain. Everyone around you is having the time of their lives and you are here thinking about someone far away. You haven’t heard from them all day. You called. Twice. Did you do something wrong? You often wondered how it would feel to be here, totally out of control. Answer: It sucks. Your heart aches. Death Cab, you get it now. You saw them live when you were on top of the world. Back then, you were happily texting on your Blackberry and flirting in the beer tent. But now that you’re, you don’t know… Now that you’re fucked, you get it… You totally get it.

(written while Nicole was tricking her rival into drinking from the pee-filled Heineken can)

The Champagne Is Getting Warm

Jenna, all your LA charm won’t get me to believe you’re a tomboy

There was a time when you were totally in love with him and you couldn’t think of anything else. A time when it was cute that he was always on his phone, texting and being important. A time when nothing could go back to UJI. It would have taken a fire extinguisher to put out that spark, but now, all it took was the first round of Patron shots at The Hard Rock in Vegas. You tried to bring the feeling back, but it was on permanent vacation with an email auto-reply. It had gotten to a point where “inside jokes” were substituting for real conversation. And that was the point when you opened the door and the sun came in. Even your black jeans, your black shirt and your black nails looked grey underneath that powerful light. A light that made you fall in love with everything you came into contact with. It was ironic, you thought, how well you could “see” this “illusion”. It had been like a disease. A mirror game. His only thoughts and actions were reciprocations, if that’s even a word, but you know what I mean. But now, you realize now that you want someone that will drunk dial you out of the blue when you’re fast asleep in a hotel room in Hawaii and recite a poem into your voice-mail. Sorry though, there’s no time for reflection now: you have to pick up Kendra who is having drinks with her co-workers at Bronson Bar. You’re already starting to forget what it was about him that you used to be so excited about. All that PDA had been as fruitful as “chasing the dragon” at 5 a.m., and just as embarrassing the next day. Yes, it was a long, long night. And when you woke up on the Greyhound bus, ‘Motorcycle Drive-By’ was playing in your headphones and everyone was in their own little world, and just a few lights were still on. You closed your eyes again and realized that you still missed him, but that you were also still gladly letting him go. You were lightening your load in preparation for the next big adventure. You can’t stand by anymore while he figures out how to express himself. Sorry, the champagne is getting warm. And besides, there’s a little afterparty that you have to get to that you’re late for. You won’t have to flirt with anyone, or fuck anyone there to feel good about anything because you’re already on top of the world basking in this newfound clarity. You are relieved that you didn’t get sucked into something inferior, and looking forward to something awesome. Cue that Rachid song “Pride”, as the “door whore” gives you a double-kiss and lifts the velvet rope.

(written while I was on hold with my ISP)


Where the glory days are always just last week

She wanted me to leave Southside at 1 am to go to her place. Leave? Right when the party was about to peak? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t do this like us. I gave her my “bottle” and she just sat there (people-watching through her bangs like Kendra does) with her Burberry trench still on. Occasionally, she would give me that “I’m having fun” smile, and I would stop and introduce her to more of my friends, but every time I walked away the conversation would fizzle. Yes, I know everyone there. She could too, eventually. It only takes 3 weeks to become a scene star (or to instill any habit for that matter). Remember Iris? But the only person she knew here right now was that Somalian guy that wanted to fuck her. Even he was leaving. He had band practice early next morning. But I convinced her to stay. I always want people to stay out, don’t I? Staying out is like a badge we wear. It’s like an underground society and I guess I was hoping that she wanted to be a part of this club. No, she was miserable and she was standing at the exit putting lipstick on. That’s when she delivered the famous ultimatum, the one I’ve heard a thousand times. It was “her” or “nightlife”. Choose. To know what I responded, you only have to look at my necklace, the one I never take off, and the most recent mp3s on my IPOD playlist.

Resolution #9

Swedish-Canadian Goose

You give me this look that you learned from watching America’s Next Top Model. Today darling, you have to unlearn. You look so beautiful when you do nothing, when you don’t pose, when you’re just yourself. I want to photograph what I see before you realize I’m lifting the camera to my face. That look you get when you’re just talking about your dog.